Untold Sorrow

He stole my smile

Jennifer's P.O.V:

'I should think you would have learned by now, Jennifer,' Margaret was saying in an exasperated tone, 'that it only does harm to hold it all in. Now, for the last time, will you please tell me what's going on'?

I laid down my pencil with a sigh and looked up at her. We were in the small attic room at Margaret's that I used as a studio, and I was hard at work trying to get some holiday drawings finished for the Philadelphia store before Thanksgiving.

'All right,' I said at last. 'What do you want to know?'

Margaret plumped herself down on the rickety wooden chair beside my work table with a grunt of satisfaction.

'I really don't mean to pry,' she said in a kinder tone. 'I understand that it's your nature to keep your troubles to yourself, but I just need to know what's going on between you and Matthew. You've been here for over a month now, and every time I even mention his name, you either bite my head off or disappear.'

I gazed out the window at the bleak November landscape. The leaves were all gone from the trees and soon it would be winter again. Another cold, icy winter alone. I turned to her.

'There's really nothing to tell. We've agreed on a temporary separation, that's all.'

'But why?' Margaret wailed. 'You seemed so happy together, just right for each other.' She gave me a sharp look. 'Something must have happened. Was it another woman?' That when my eyes flew open in alarm at the suggestion, Margaret smiled grimly. 'I see I've hit a nerve. Was he unfaithful? I can't believe that of Matthew. He's not the type. '

I looked down at my hands, idly toying with the pencil. 'No,' I said slowly. 'It wasn't another woman.' I paused. In a sense, this wasn't true. There was another woman—Beth— although not the way Margaret meant it.

'Well, then?' Margaret prompted.

I took a deep breath. 'Matthew is still in love with his first wife. Beth.'

For a long moment, Margaret only stared at me. Then, briskly, she said, 'That's nonsense! Anyone could see he was crazy about you. He treated you as though you were made of glass, and I caught him several times looking at you as though he'd like to eat you. No,' she shook her head vigorously, 'Matthew loves you.'

I smiled stiffly. It did no good to try to explain to Margaret. 'You're wrong,' I said at last. 'Oh, I think Matthew likes me and wants me, but he never loved me. Not the way he loved Beth.'

We sat in silence for some time. I hated having to discuss my marriage with anyone. I had had no contact with Matthew at all in the six weeks I'd been at Margaret's, but hardly a day, an hour, a minute passed that I didn't think of him and miss him.

Several times I had been tempted to call him, just to hear his voice, but I knew that would only make it harder for me in the long run. I had to make a clean break.

'What are you going to do?' Margaret asked finally.

I shrugged. 'I don't know. We haven't really discussed it. Get a divorce, I suppose, eventually.'

Margaret gave a small snort of impatience. 'I think you're out of your mind. What do you care if he thinks he still loves this Beth? She's gone. You're alive. I know Matthew loves you in his way. Can't you just accept what he's able to give and make a life together?'

I gave her a long, bleak look. 'I could,' replied quietly, 'except that I'm hopelessly in love with him.'

Margaret only stared. 'I see,' she said slowly at last. I cringed under the pitying look.